Death on a Horse
by tinker
Summary: HP/Highlander x-over. Methos - Death on a horse - decides that the world doesn't need another 'Death'. So, he goes to teach at Hogwarts.
1. Hogwarts

Methos shook Albus' hand warmly. It had been decades since they last met; he was finally  
returning to Hogwarts. As usual, he would teach history - or magic, this time, a welcome  
change from ordinary history. He had become aware of the wizarding world as it developed  
into civilisation: his first contact with true wizards had been before the general agreement of  
secrecy came about. Most Immortals had no idea wizards existed; the few who knew about  
them understood that the two worlds were better off separated. Some few Immortals and  
wizards kept in contact; a select few who kept the worlds separate and dealt with dangers  
offered to their world by the other. When Lord Voldemort rose, word was put about that  
something big and bad was on the way. Young Immortals largely ignored the danger, but  
older Immortals had usually seen enough mystical happenings and lived long enough to know  
that when it was said danger was coming, and people were dying - mortals or not - you went  
to ground. Immortals were legends; Silas, Kronos and Caspian were mysterious figures to the  
wizarding community; dangerous, cold-blooded mass murderers, to be sure, able to kill many  
able wizards, oh and most definitely alive, but not much talked about.  
"Adam! Good to see you, must have been forty years now?" Dumbledore greeted him.  
"Forty?" Hermione muttered incredulously to Harry and Ron. They were looking for a book  
in the Arithmancy classroom, and conveniently couldn't help overhearing. "I know wizards  
live longer than most people, but whoever Adam is, he doesn't look any older than twenty-  
five. And wizards don't age that slowly." Ron shrugged.  
"Maybe he knew Dumbledore when he was a kid, and he's older than he looks, and he ages  
slower than most."  
"That's a lot of maybes." Hermione countered. Harry interrupted.  
"True, but what else can you think of? Listen to 'em." Adam had returned the greeting, and  
Dumbledore had suggested they move to his office.  
"Damn." Harry muttered. "I wanted to find out what he's like."  
"Well, he seemed nice to Dumbledore..." Hermione offered.  
"Snape's nice to Dumbledore." Ron said flatly. "But..." He looked like he'd had an idea he  
might be a little scared to carry out. "There is that charm Fred gave me."  
"What charm?" Harry asked.   
"Oh, no, Ron, you've got to be joking." Hermione looked aghast, as Harry remembered the  
charm Ron was talking about. She continued, "We'd be expelled for listening at the  
headmaster's office. And it'd be like saying we don't trust Dumbledore." Harry thought  
about it.  
"She's got a point, Ron. But maybe we could try."  
"No!" Hermione protested.  
"We have the Map. Not like anyone's going to be able to surprise us." Ron pointed out.  
"No, but what if Dumbledore has wards set?"  
"Then we don't hear anything. Simple." Hermione didn't look happy, but she finally agreed.  
They cast the proper spell on the charm, and listened carefully, to be greeted with something  
like static on Muggle radios.   
"Oh, great. All that for nothing." Harry sighed.   
"I suppose he would have strong wards set. Either that, or Hogwarts itself is doing it. Maybe  
because of all of the concentrated magic here, or maybe there are wards and things stopping  
listening charms from working in the castle." Hermione added.  
"Yeah." Ron sounded glum. "Let's see if we can't find out who he is, then. Someone must  
know who the new teachers are."  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
"Well, old friend, how's life treated you?" Methos asked.  
"Not well, not well. I have been blessed with a lack of the ailments of old age, but the events  
of the magical world plague me more. I suppose you know what's happening?"  
"Most don't - even through their wizarding communiques - but I haven't lived this long not  
knowing how to get good information." He spoke seriously. "Voldemort has risen. Fudge is  
acting like a fool and living in denial. You, if I guess right, are rallying together some of the  
better and, more importantly, solid and brave wizards, and preparing your defence."  
Dumbledore inclined his head. "You guess correctly. I was also hoping to enlist your aid,  
asking you to replace Professor Binns." He said directly. Methos replied in a similarly blunt  
and honest manner.  
"I'll think about it. It's going to take a while for me to get back in the practice of using spells,  
and teaching magical history here, before I get in over my head any more. But I'd like to be  
kept abreast of things..." Methos thought on it for a minute. The more he did, the less he  
liked the idea of not being in this. The danger was obvious and he did not like it.   
He decidedly disliked the idea of going into danger - it might be brutal, but when it came  
down to the basics, he chose survival. But what was the alternative? He answered his own  
question. Be out of the loop completely, without the information I'll need to survive in the  
wizarding world right now. He sighed. In times not long gone, he would have simply gone to  
ground for awhile. A long while, preferably, until everything had completely blown over. But  
Albus was a good friend. And Voldemort ...Voldemort reminded him of what he'd been,  
thousands of years ago. If Methos hadn't stopped himself, they would probably have ruled the  
world with terror, committing countless crimes against humanity and keeping people in  
oppression for centuries, or even millennia.   
He realised he didn't want that to happen - well, he had never wanted it to. But for a long  
time, he hadn't cared. Now he did. It was unsettling. He looked up, eyes distant, remembering  
times of evil and death, and then met Dumbledore's eyes.  
"Count me in. Who'm I working with?" Dumbledore smiled, but only for a second, and partly  
in sympathy - he had a fair idea of what Methos had been thinking about.  
"The old gang we had, if you knew. Mundungus Fletcher. Alastor Moody. Remus Lupin.  
Some of the Weasleys. Most teachers here." Methos nodded as he went through some of the  
names. "I remember. And of Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew?" His tone revealed he knew  
something about them.  
"What do you think?"  
"I would hope that you know Sirius Black is on our side. And Master Pettigrew ...is not."  
"I do. And the same has been explained to our colleagues. But I would be interested to know  
how you found out." Methos was quiet for a moment.  
"I'm five thousand years old, Albus. I've lived so long, and studied human nature so long I  
don't question what instinct tells me - which was that Remus, James and Sirius would be  
brave, strong, smart, valuable wizards against evil. And that Pettigrew could not keep up -  
always in someone else's shadow, someone stronger. Something told me he would be the  
weak link. Perhaps it had something to do with the animals they could shift to, excluding  
Remus. A stag, a large dog... and a rat. Your animal shape reflects you, I'm sure. Minerva's is  
a cat, no? That is definitely appropriate." Dumbledore nodded agreement.  
"Logical. Sirius, unfortunately, is still playing fugitive with the law, no way to prove he is  
innocent anytime soon. But we are keeping in contact, and Remus and him are working  
together. I think that should do for now, you will be summoned to the next meeting we have -  
which will be quite soon - and we'll explain our aims and obstacles then." He smiled. "Let me  
just warn you about some students before you go unpack. We have only four Weasleys  
currently - a fifth-year, Ron, fourth-year, Ginny, and twin seventh-years, Fred and George.  
Identical, but one can pick out a few differences. Now, the girl is relatively quiet, but  
Madame Pomfrey suspects she may turn out to be a healer. The twins are genius  
mischief-makers, I'm quite sure they intend to build a business to rival Zonko's, and they will  
probably manage it."  
"But do they buy everything they do? At least that can limit them."  
"No, genius I said, and genius I meant. The Weasleys are, well, rather poor currently and  
while they occasionally use some Zonko products, most they make themselves, and very  
well, too."  
"Damn." Well, classes will be interesting, at least.  
"And then there is Ron and his two friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, all  
Gryffindors."  
"Let me guess, the boy's head is bigger than a balloon." Methos referred to Harry.  
"Not in the least. He grew up with a moderately nasty Muggle family that apparently swore to  
stamp wizardry out of him, and had no idea magic existed until Hagrid showed up to take  
him to Hogwarts. He hates the fame."  
"Good." Methos said briskly. "I hope he's turning out like his father, then?"  
"Yes, quite. Can't quite keep away from Voldemort, either. One major encounter for each  
year at Hogwarts so far." Dumbledore sighed. "But he is good. Smart, strong and brave, so  
much like his father. And -" He smiled -"Playing Seeker in Quidditch remarkably well.  
They've a talented team, but he's the reason they've been winning the cup each year."  
"And, let me guess, he has a knack for ferreting things out."  
"Naturally. Ron, who I meant to tell you about, I think may turn out to be a weather-mage -  
the first for a few centuries, I think. He's talented at chess, but much overshadowed by his  
brothers. Hermione is Muggle-born - not that it matters, of course, simply that it may be the  
cause of rude remarks if you hear them - and very smart. Reminds me of Minerva as a  
student - extremely conscientious hard worker. It is fortunate she made friends with the boys,  
they taught her rulebreaking was not exactly wrong. Finally, Draco Malfoy, a boy in the  
fifth-year as well, a Slytherin. He hates Potter, Weasley and Granger, and is hated back, can  
be a real nasty piece of work sometimes. But there is his father ..." Methos nodded.  
"Lucius Malfoy."  
"I think the son isn't quite as evil as he sometimes acts; I think most of his attitudes are from  
his father. If you'll just take that into mind, I'll move to staff. We have Flitwick on Charms,  
Minerva on Transfiguration, a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Telske Swife,  
Pince as librarian, Hooch as Quidditch Coach, Poppy is nurse, Sybil Trelawney takes  
Divination -" "Keep her away from me." Methos warned. "Professor Vector teaches  
Arithmancy, Hagrid is our Gamekeeper - and teaches Care of Magical Creatures with  
Professor Grubbly-Plank. Filch is caretaker and...ah, Potions Master is Severus Snape."  
Dumbledore kept his face controlled, watching Methos' expression slowly darken.   
"He was a slimy brat of a kid, has he changed?"  
"Somewhat. He is nasty, and he plays favourites. But he was a spy for us well before  
Voldemort's downfall. He's not a bad person."  
"I'll believe that much, at least. Ghosts?"  
"Nicholas, the Grey Lady, the Friar and the Bloody Baron. Peeves the poltergeist is still  
around, of course."  
"Ah, the Bloody Baron won't be too happy to see me, nor I him, seeing as I turned him into  
that ghost, and Peeves won't be jumping for joy either, but Nicholas and the rest are good."  
"Well, you'll have your old rooms - I'll see you at dinner, then?"  
"Dinner." They nodded to each other and Methos left.  
He made his way through the castle slowly. It was a comfortable place; old, but strong in its  
age and experience, filled with spells and lives and memories over time. More than any other  
place on earth, Hogwarts felt like returning home. It felt secure and alive; insofar as he ever  
felt secure. He was happy to be there, relieved in a way that this place had not suffered from  
Voldemort or any other major catalyst. He entered his room and found trunks brought up, bed  
made and room immaculate, fire burning, a beautiful old wooden desk - enchanted against  
spillage and such things, he was sure - in a corner, with a bookcase, bedside and wardrobe to  
match it for age and elegance. Thank God for house elves. He didn't know how he got along  
without them after leaving the wizarding world many years previous.   
Unpacking quickly - most possessions had been picked up in Diagon Alley, for why would  
history scholar Adam Pierson own wizard robes, a wand, or various other curios wizards  
owned? The shopping trip had taken a bit of dodging, he admitted to himself, smiling  
ruefully as he remembered his visit to Ollivanders'.  
  
Methos opened the door to Ollivanders', stepping inside quietly. After a moment, exactly as  
last time, a fifty years older John Ollivander slid along on his ladder.  
His eyes bulged.  
But only for a moment.  
Ollivander eyes, Methos was sure, never bulged at customers. He felt quite proud at having  
achieved it, and simultaneously felt consternation that Ollivander had recognised him. Well,  
apparently the rumours were true. Come once, and you would be told of all your relatives'  
wands, and come twice you would be remembered...and then told about your friends, and  
your relatives. Methos had hoped the man was using some kind of spell. Apparently,  
however, it was simply phenomenal mnemonic skill. Ollivander carefully climbed down  
from the ladder and offered a hand. After a serious shake, he said gravely, looking into  
Methos' eyes,  
"You age remarkably well." Methos replied equally gravely, "Thank you."  
"I would be obliged to know how well you age." The man asked. "But if you wish it kept to  
one; to one it will be kept." Methos had to smile. An excellent businessman.  
"You know of the legendary Immortals."  
"Of course."  
"Lot more of them than you'd think. Stupid ones, young ones." He paused. "Not all are  
centuries old and extremely powerful." That was enough. Implications of a society of  
Immortals, Immortals sometimes strong sometimes weak, even as wizards and witches.  
Almost saying he himself was one.  
"I have but one question." Ollivander was sharp. "Does Dumbledore know?" Suitably vague.  
"Of course." He met the man's eyes firmly and sincerely. Ollivander studied him for a  
moment, then nodded quickly and produced several wands.  
"Try these. Old wood; items from old magical beasts. Not brittle, broken. Aged and  
enduring." He made the distinction clear. Both men remembered well that last time,  
Ollivander had had to dig up the oldest wand in the shop. The one that was not only ancient  
by wand standards but had accidentally been soaked in Aging Potion and kept as an amusing  
curio.   
It took many tries, but eventually - after Adam had gradually and reluctantly yielded the  
details of many past wands - they found an ancient oakwood wand, containing one unicorn  
hair, thought to be an antique. He headed for Gringotts, anticipating more trouble. Goblins  
were long-lived; most goblins working at Gringotts worked there for their lifetimes. They  
were far less inquisitive than humans, thankfully, which Methos liked about them, but he  
would earn himself many hushed whispers and probably the most surprised goblins the world  
had seen in millennia. Goblins did not surprise easily. He walked into Gringotts and received  
the expected reception. One goblin glanced up, then stopped work, conveying no other sign it  
was surprised. Then another looked up and appraised Methos carefully. It muttered  
something, and every goblin in the entire hall had stopped work and turned to Methos;  
somewhat in the way everyone turns to stare at the man who does something very strange at  
the dinner table. At the other end of the hall, a boy whispered to his father,  
"What happened?" His father replied, just a touch awed and a little concerned,  
"Someone surprised the goblins."  
"So?" His son persisted.  
"I doubt my grandfather's grandfather's was alive when the last human managed to shock a  
goblin." Impressed, the boy fell silent, and an important-looking goblin descended some steps  
toward Methos, waving an arm that sent the rest back to work.  
"You return, Mr. Pierson?" He had always used the same name at Gringotts.  
"I do."  
"In much the same state as last time." It was a password of a sort; this head goblin knew  
something of him and his kind, but he always caused a stir among other goblins. With a  
peculiar smile, he replied,  
"Yet not the same here." He tapped his temple, and gestured that they should go. "Death has  
not a home in me." It had a double meaning; death itself had not caught him, and Death, his  
persona thousands of years ago, was still banished. The goblin nodded and led him to his  
vault. It was well concealed; one of Gringotts' best. It held his diaries; eleven thousand years  
of memories and experiences written in the most obscure languages he understood at the  
time. And, of course, a fortune in money. The irony was the diaries were worth far more than  
the galleons; if ever he died he had arranged for some of the oldest (i.e. most  
incomprehensible) to be released as antiques, sold to collections, money to benefit those he  
enjoyed the company of most. But to him, they were a wealth of information and history. His  
past.  
But not for now. He deposited some diaries, accumulated from his last visit to Gringotts,  
collected money and thanked the goblin, informing him he was in town for about ten years -  
the usual - and asking about any break-ins.  
"There have been attempts." He answered gravely. "One success, by one of the minions of he  
who must not be named. But the vault in question had been emptied earlier. Security is  
upgraded now. We have employed a team of specialist magic-workers that solely produce  
curses, spells and charms for the high-security vaults. I hope you are not reconsidering."  
"No. Gringotts is not perfection; but there is none better. And of course...no one knows of my  
diaries and artifacts, and galleons can be found anywhere. How could they steal them?" That  
was the oldest and greatest defence. No one could steal something that did not exist, so he  
did not let it exist to them. The goblin nodded, satisfied. He escorted Methos to the door, and  
Methos had then headed for Hogwarts.  
---  
Methos headed out for dinner - the bell had just sounded. He took a place at the teachers'  
table, between Vigor and Dumbledore. Vigor had aged, but not changed much. When he sat  
down, he had only betrayed slight startlement, and welcomed him back warmly but formally.  
A few other teachers greeted him: Snape only looked at him ominously (back off sweety-pie,  
I've dealt with worse than you), and Trelawney looked apprehensive. Fair enough. He had  
had a tally against Dumbledore for catching Snape out in his plots, and made Trelawney look  
foolish with her divination obsession more than once. He doubted either had changed much,  
although Snape must have gained some kind of a heart, to have left the dark side. He settled  
in to watch the sorting, as Minerva led the new first-years into the Hall.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione were all watching the teachers' table for the new Defence Against  
the Dark Arts teacher, and Professor Pierson.  
"Well, he knows your Arithmancy teacher, Hermione." Ron pointed out, as they saw him sit  
next to the Professor, and greet him.   
"And Snape and Trelawney, apparently," Hermione added. "Look! Snape's glaring at him  
like he does to you and Lupin and Sirius, Harry."  
"Only he looks a little scared, too." Harry commented. "Or, not quite scared, but wary. I  
wonder how they know each other?"  
"Maybe Pierson was a few years above him, or something, and had something over him."  
"Hope so. He's got this big phony pleased look to see Snape and Trelawney. Trelawney just  
looks worried, though."  
"Good." Hermione sounded satisfied. "Maybe if she's scared of him, she'll start being less  
airy-fairy."  
"Hope so." Ron sounded a little dubious. "If that's possible."  
"Mmmm. We can find out some more when Dumbledore introduces them." Hermione  
conceded. Then everyone quieted the doors opened, and Professor McGonagall led the new  
first-years into the Hall.  
The sorting went quickly, and as the delicious dishes appeared on their tables, they hardly  
said a word as they ate. As every plate was scraped clean, the headmaster got up to speak.  
"Now that all have eaten," he smiled, "I simply wish to remind you of a few restrictions, and  
introduce our new teachers, so do feel free to fall asleep until I present your teachers. The  
Forbidden Forest is, naturally, out of bounds to all students. Master Filch, the caretaker of our  
school, reminds you that any kind of vandalism to the school is punishable, and will be  
punished, by him. Now if I may introduce our newest teachers. With regret, I must announce  
that Professor Binns crossed over during the holidays." There was silence in the hall as each  
student tried not to whoop with delight. A twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes said he noticed as  
he continued, "So you will now be taught by Professor Pierson -" he gestured and Methos  
stood. "who is not known as a scholar to the wizarding world, but I assure you has a knack  
for teaching and is an expert on magical and Muggle history."  
"I wonder why he threw that in..." Hermione mused.  
"I suppose he knows Professor Binns wasn't really very good." Run suggested.  
"And even if he's no fun, so long as he can teach us it'll be better. Plus Dumbledore  
wouldn't have been too happy to have a teacher who wasn't actually teaching anyone  
anything." Harry added.  
"Yes. It will be good to have a better teacher." Dumbledore continued after the chatter about  
the new teacher had died down.  
"Also, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be Professor Swife," a young  
woman stood up. She was quite pretty, Hispanic, wearing a long, satiny pale yellow dress  
somewhat like a kimono. "Her expertise is with curses, but she will also be covering magical  
combat and magical creatures with you." Professor Swife sat again, and Dumbledore  
dismissed them. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked out slowly, talking about the new  
teachers.  
"Professor Swife looks okay."  
"Yeah, but you can't really tell from looking at them."  
"Mmm, but Snape always looks nasty."   
"Yeah, suppose. I want to find out more about this Pierson guy. He reminds me of someone."  
"Wonder if ...hey, I bet he knew Sirius and Lupin! If he knows Snape, and Trelawney, then  
he probably knows them too. And since Snape doesn't like him, Pierson might've been  
friends with Sirius and Lupin. Maybe you could write to Sirius to tell him."  
"Yeah, I will. But after we've had a lesson or two. If he's no good, then I won't bother."  
"Yeah." They reached the portrait door.  
"leones cantant."* Hermione said, and the door swung open.  
"G'night Hermione." Ron said.  
"Goodnight." Harry added. "We're going to unpack."  
"Goodnight, then." She replied, and they left for their rooms. Harry and Ron unpacked  
quickly, and were asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow.   
  
~*~*~*Silvi*~*~*~   
Telske Swife. Always in strife. The rhyme from her childhood echoed in her head  
unexpectedly as she wondered once more exactly how she'd ended up here. She had grown  
up in outback Australia, and received her letter, as Australians did, at thirteen. She graduated  
the seven years later, at twenty, and landed the job here at Hogwarts at a mere twenty-four.  
At school, she had had a very strong education with Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of  
Magical Creatures, Potions, and Charms - not so good with anything else. An interesting note  
in her resume said she was proficient in the use of magic without a wand. Wicca-like spells  
as well as the usual spells, she had had a faulty wand for most of her school life and resolved  
to learn how to work without it. Dogged determination - and an obstinacy her Potions teacher  
had told her would stand her in good stead if she only learned when not to be stubborn -  
helped her succeed. After she got herself a better wand, she refused to quit. She'd created a  
good habit, time to keep it up. She was good at martial arts, simply because they were a  
useful way to keep fit, though most wizards scorned them. Lastly, she checked off in her  
mind, she flew well. She enjoyed Quidditch, especially, but she doubted she'd have the  
chance to play here. Those were her strengths. Weaknesses...Mmpf. Tended to ignore people,  
or be harsh, when she wasn't being too quiet to talk. Those were her extremes - she'd either  
be quite quiet and reserved, never raising her voice, or when there was an emergency - or she  
was just plain pissed off - she'd be very harsh. Better try and sand the edges, 'Ske, if you're  
gonna teach here. And her transfiguration was pitiful. General knowledge of magic was  
barely average - that included history. She was reasonably adept in astronomy, arithmancy,  
divination, and other such things, but they weren't the best.  
"So I ended up teaching DADA, my best subject. Why should I be surprised? At the school  
near the centre of the fight against Voldemort, no less. The way they've been going through  
DADA teachers, I should be worried about being here. And, it's an important post. This  
subject is the most important of all, right now, especially here, and if the rumours about the  
other teachers are true, I have my work cut out for me." She shook her head, smiling a little.  
"Talking to yourself," she lectured herself in the mirror, "Is the first sign of going stark,  
raving, mad. You, my dear, are well past those early stages." With that, she put herself to bed,  
banishing any further worries until morning.  
  
*~*~*~*Postridie*~*~*~*  
  
Ten hours later, both Methos and Telske - along with some students - rolled out of bed onto  
the cold floor with a groan. Methos yanked off his bedcovers and stood up unsteadily,  
rubbing sleep from his eyes. He made it in and out of the shower, and got dressed, without  
really waking up. A few thousand years of doing it made it instinct. Time for the morning  
kata, he thought, stretching. Unfortunately, he had to wake up for that.   
Telske jumped up. She'd charmed a little box to act as an alarm clock - with a particular  
alarm that always made her jump up in a panic, waking up completely before she even knew  
what it was. It wasn't a fire alarm or anything, just something that made her edgy and on  
alert. She dressed - donning comfortable pants and a shirt in defiance of the traditional robes  
- and showered quickly, unknowingly mirroring Methos' actions as she began to stretch for  
the simple martial arts moves she practised every morning. They met in the hallway as they  
headed down for breakfast.  
"Hello." Methos greeted her. Only pretty girl in the place besides the students, and he wasn't  
even going to go there. Definitely had to get to know her.  
"Hey. Are you the new history teacher?" Dollar for the amount of times people've asked me  
that.  
"Yeah, you're doing Defence?"  
"Uh-uh and already wondering how I got here." She grinned.   
"You aren't alone. I'm thinking, they drugged me." No, really, he added mentally.  
"Still, with Voldemort." Methos stopped in mock shock and threw up his hands.   
"Thank the Gods! Someone else who can say the name without swallowing their tongue!"  
Telske smiled.  
"Completely, everyone seems to have a heart attack. Me, I think the whole "You-know-who"  
just makes him sound scarier. Which we don't need."  
"Exactly." Methos agreed. "Are you Australian?"  
"You got me! I've been living here for a couple of years, but apparently I've still got a bit of  
an accent. I went to the Australian Academy of Magic. Did you go here?"  
"Yeah, I was here for awhile." He wasn't lying. He'd taught here many times, but his  
education with magic had been picked up from place to place over the years. Not that it had  
any holes. Millennia of picking up bits and pieces usually meant you forgot more than  
anyone else would ever learn. He liked that saying. More than anyone else, it's mine, he  
thought.  
"So you went somewhere else, too?" Sharp one.  
"Yeah, spent some time at Beauxbatons." He pretended to shudder. "French snobs, I tell  
you." She laughed.  
"Yeah, we had some jokes about them. The old lightbulb one, do you know it?"  
"Don't think so..." He had no doubt he'd heard it a thousand times.  
"How many Beauxbatons students does it take to screw in a lightbulb? One. She stands there  
and waits for the world to revolve around her." Methos laughed. What do you know,  
someone did come up with new ones every century or so.  
"I knew a girl who went there, Persephone. She thought she was so good, and she was going  
on about having the name of a Goddess' daughter. Know what the name means?" He asked.  
"No..."  
"Bringer of Doom. She wasn't too impressed with that." Telske burst out laughing. "What a  
name! I have to remember that one." They reached the Great Hall, and sat with the other  
teachers. Only McGonagall, Snape and Sinistra were there. Telske noticed Snape first - he  
was glaring at her with the sort of generalised hatred he had for all Defence Against the Dark  
Arts teachers.   
"What's his problem?" Methos had noticed Snape's look. Telske looked at Snape for a  
moment. Inspiration struck.  
"I hear," she said in a loud stage whisper, "that he's got some relationship issues with his  
boyfriend. He's just having a hard time at the moment, I suppose." Snape's eyes widened in  
outrage, and his sallow cheeks went red. Hmm, maybe I hit a nerve. Sinistra's face was too  
blank for her not to have heard. Telske smiled, and Methos managed to hold in his laughter  
with a monumental effort.  
"Very, very good." He muttered in her ear admiringly. It was, too. Impressive. Although, he  
suspected she had his eternal loathing by now. Who cared. He looked like the sort that wasn't  
worth the trouble of keeping on your good side.  
  
  
  
* Translation for all Latin words in this piece:  
cantant: (they) sing  
leones: lions (leo = lion)  
postridie: the next day  
Telske: TEL-ski  
Quote from Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan:  
"The lions sing and the hills take flight,  
The moon by day and the sun by night  
Blind woman, old man, jackdaw fool  
Let the Lord of Chaos rule." 


	2. Peeves

OK just a few notes. Thanks heaps to everyone who reviewed!  
Lu: HP/HL fanfic isn't too common, but it's out there... 11000 must've been a typo, sorry, I'll  
fix that. I read a fic recently where he was 11000 that's probably where I got it. Harry  
Immortal? Maybe, maybe not. I'll definitely think about it, but I don't want to make him some  
kind of Superman guy, you know, perfect at everything.  
TotallyMe: Yes, (well obviously), there are more chapters! I plan to complete it - and  
hopefully update faster. Reviews? Well, I review whenever I feel like it, doesn't matter if  
they ask or won't update without, say, fifteen. I think that's slack, so I don't do it.  
Fabi: I was going to read some of your stuff, but I kind of don't speak Portuguese, so there  
goes...thanks for reviewing! Try www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=498515 Harry Potter  
and the Oldest Immortal. It's long - about 83000 words, but be warned it's slash -  
Snape/Methos. iThat/i thought doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but it's  
still a good fic.  
Al: Thanks for reviewing, if you - if anyone - has anything to say please say it, I don't want  
flames but constructive criticism or questions or suggestions for the story are all good.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
He smirked a little at Snape as he sat down.  
"So, what classes you have today?" He asked Telske.  
"Third-years, first-years, fifth-years and seventh-years. You?"  
"Second-years, fifth-years, sixth-years and seventh-years. My only full day is my first one."  
He sounded gloomy. "But wizard history is a nice change from Muggle."  
"You taught Muggle history? Why?"  
"Well, I was Muggle-born. When I got my letter, they didn't want me to go, but I'd never  
been on the greatest terms with my family, so I went anyway. I graduated, got a job. But I  
wasn't really very happy, and so when Voldemort came along, I found it very easy simply to  
duck out of sight, as a Muggle teaching in another country."  
"What about after his downfall? Didn't you miss wizardry?"  
"I still used spells; kept up with events. But I had a job I enjoyed, I had friends...I was  
comfortable, settled in. I was happy to stay where I was, and decided to. But now..." Methos  
paused and tried to look like he was thinking back. "I've got a different outlook from when  
Voldemort first appeared. For one thing, now I know what he's capable of. And... I don't  
know why, but I can't just stand by and pretend it isn't happening anymore."  
"Ah, you're maturing. Growing up into a responsible person!" Telske teased.  
"God help me, never that." Methos faked a shudder. "What've you been doing before you  
came here?"  
"Well, we can graduate at eighteen or go onto further studies. I did that in Defence, Charms  
and Potions; finished at twenty. Then I worked my way around Australia, New Zealand,  
some of Indonesia and the Phillipines - I wanted to travel - and then came to England, and  
did the same thing until I was offered the job at Hogwarts." Suddenly, they heard a man  
behind them speak up. It was Hagrid.  
"Well, that's why yeh've got the death glare, from Professor Snape." He nodded towards  
Snape, speaking quietly. "Sorry ter interrupt, but 'e's been after yer job fer years. An' if yeh're  
good with Potions - oh, that'll tear it." He lowered his voice even more. "'E's a nasty bugger,  
too. Oh, 'e ain't no Dark wizard, an' 'e's a good man, strong, underneath it all, but ah wouldn'  
go round makin' friendly with 'im."  
"Thanks for telling us." Telske said. "It's easier to ignore when you know why." She smiled  
at Hagrid, and he turned back to his breakfast after smiling and giving a quick nod of  
agreement, pleased to have helped the new teachers.  
"Well, that explains that." She added to Methos. He nodded, although he'd guessed that  
about Snape.  
"Just ignore him. Or, of course, you could deal with him like you did just then." He grinned.  
"I know what I'd prefer, but I think Dumbledore'd object to conflict among the staff, I  
suppose." She sighed. "He'd better not get in my way, though." Methos smiled. "Just watch  
him try. I know his sort." She faked a groan.  
"He'd better not try it too soon, then. I don't feel like putting up with any crap today."  
"Good luck! You've got a couple of pranksters in your seventh-year class, I've heard -  
twins." She looked panicky. "Ah, they'll kill me!" But then she laughed, and they both left to  
prepare for their first class.  
Telske sat at her desk and went over her planned lesson. They wouldn't be doing much  
today; outlining what they would be working on in future, finding out what they knew. She  
took a deep breath. Calm. She was, she admitted, nervous. Oh, come on! She lectured herself.  
You're scared of a bunch of first-years? Remember how terrified you were in your first year?  
You're scared of these people? Kids? Swife, you're losing it. No, it was never even there. She  
banished her nerves, refusing to admit she could be more nervous with a bunch of first-years  
than being bait for a vampire.  
Methos, in contrast, was bored waiting for the kids to arrive. History had been his subject for  
more than merely a few centuries now, and he'd taught more classes than he cared to  
remember. His only real interest in this one was what the kids would be like. Still, he was  
looking forward to the afternoon more. Fifth-year - that was Harry Potter, Hermione, Draco  
and Ron. Seventh-year - the Weasley twins. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Hurry up,  
all. Or send one of the ghosts in. Or Peeves - seeing him again's going to be fun. Finally the  
students started to arrive. Telske and Methos both sighed. One in an attempt at calm, another  
in boredom.  
"Hello, class." Methos stood when the last desk had been filled, a few minutes later. No one  
was late - apparently they were all curious about the new teacher. "I am Professor Pierson,  
and I'm obviously your new History of Magic teacher. We will not be studying goblin  
rebellions - no doubt you are all deeply disappointed," he added, as the class grinned. "we  
will be covering the Ministry's origins first. Now. Does anyone have parents in the  
Ministry?" A few students raised their hands. Hmm. He made a mental note to remember  
their last names - so he could steer clear of their parents.  
"Does anyone know anything about the Ministry's structure and how it began?" Again, a few  
students raised their hands. 'Stuck in a room with twenty twelve-year-olds who don't want to  
be there, and you have to try and make them learn enough to pass history', one friend had  
described his job. But he'd been doing it for centuries and he figured he had the knack - and  
of course it helped a little that he'd actually been alive when most of it happened. He called  
on a Ravenclaw girl and settled back into his chair, content.  
  
*~*~*Telske*~*~*  
Telske also stood when her class had arrived. She was five feet two inches and it was just  
humiliating to be at eye level - or less - with your students when you were sitting down.  
"Good morning. I am Professor Swife, your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I see  
you've covered Dark Creatures and Curses reasonably well - so we will be beginning with  
non-magical self-defence." A Slytherin put up her hand, smirking.  
"You mean, like Muggles learn? Karardee stuff?" The derision in her voice was obvious, and  
the deliberate mispronunciation of karate wasn't lost on Telske.  
"Yes. If you don't like the idea, you may leave." Her tone was severe, and the girl lost her  
smirk. No one made so much as a move. "Good. This is a form of self-defence Muggles use,  
but it's even more useful because most wizards don't bother to learn anything like it." She  
walked out from behind her desk, giving them a second to think about that. "One day, you  
may be without a wand, and in trouble. Being able to hurt an attacker, or take their wand, or  
dodge their curses without a wand would be vital; it could be your only chance of escape.  
Now, practically everyone can land a good punch, or slap, or kick someone, and we all know  
where to hit someone so it hurts. I'm going to expand upon that knowledge and teach you the  
basics of martial arts, especially moves that can help you against another wizard with a wand.  
Any questions?" A Gryffindor boy and girl put up their hands, and only one Slytherin boy.  
They seemed to be sulking about having to learn 'Karadee stuff'.  
"Yes?" She asked one of the boys.  
"Um, how could it help you get away from a wizard with a wand, when you haven't got one?  
I mean, it seems like that'd be pretty hard."   
"I'll be teaching you about how most wizards curse people, and how to dodge them. Most  
wizards would be surprised you'd dodged a curse; you could attack them then or use a  
number of different moves you'll be learning to get their wand." She gestured to the girl.  
"Is there stuff you can teach that's like...um, if you're smaller than your opponent, or not as  
strong, to help you..."  
"Yes. Smaller people often have the disadvantage in strength, but they can also be more agile  
and faster. There are also ways to use your opponent's weight against them - like, ways to get  
them off balance." She waved to the last boy.  
"What happens if we're hurt? I mean, will you get in trouble if we break a bone or  
something?" She could tell by his tone he wasn't at all concerned for her welfare - in fact,  
he'd probably aiming to break someone's bone as soon as possible, by the look of him. She  
didn't think she liked Slytherins...that nasty Professor Snape was the head of their house,  
wasn't he? No wonder these guys were mean little munchkins, stuck with him.  
"If you break a bone or something serious, you'll go to Madame Pomphrey to be healed. It's  
much the same as hurting yourself in something like Quidditch -" he looked disappointed -  
"your parents have agreed to your being taught this. I only get in trouble if I'm being  
negligent. Oh, don't look so disappointed." He did, too. There went the chance to get the new  
teacher the sack. The Gryffindors laughed, the Slytherins grumbled under their breath.  
"Everyone up. Pair off; one partner take a wand, one leave yours there. We'll begin with  
dodging curses; I want you using only basic curses that you know how to fix, and I'd like you  
to start slowly; make sure you can dodge curses that you knew your opponent was about to  
cast before you start tricking each other." That should put the Slytherins in a slightly better  
mood. Getting to aim curses at their classmates. Ooh. They might just get some ideas from  
that... "Everyone make sure you're a fair way from anyone else, and that there's no danger of  
accidentally hitting someone who isn't your partner. Since we're starting slow, that should be  
easy for you." She glared at them for a moment, letting her gaze rest on the Slytherins.  
"Anyone who just 'happens' to hit someone not their partner will have one warning before I  
start taking points and giving detentions."  
"Yes, Professor." They chorused.  
The class divided itself as she instructed, and Telske began to relax as they started working.  
Not going too badly, anyway.   
  
***********  
Harry, Ron and Hermione were on their way back from their first Defence Against the Dark  
Arts class for the year.  
"Well, it was interesting," Ron offered hesitantly. "She seemed pretty nice."  
"She knows what she's doing," Hermione said. "Seeing as she's teaching us Muggle defence  
stuff, we know she's not prejudiced - and she shut Malfoy and Pansy up pretty fast."  
"It was interesting, too. Dodging curses and learning martial arts - that's one thing I never  
thought we'd learn in Defence. What've we got next?" Harry asked.  
"Umm..." Hermione checked her schedule. "History of Magic. Another new teacher -  
Professor Pierson. You remember Tara Atkinson, in second-year?" The boys nodded.  
Hermione had tutored the girl a little last year. "She had him this morning, and I asked her  
about him - she says he's okay. They're learning about the ministry - doing the basics first, she  
said. But she saw some of his books - she thinks we'll be studying Dark Wizards." Ron and  
Harry grinned. Tara was a genius when it came to snooping about, although she wasn't nasty,  
or a gossip. And she never minded telling them what she knew.  
"Sounds alright. But what's he like? Boring? Nasty? Favourites?" Over the years they'd come  
to expect the worst from new teachers, what with Defence Against the Dark Arts.   
"No, she said he was nice enough. He wasn't nasty, and he got down to business, not like  
Lockhart or Trelawney. But he's nicer than McGonagall, she says, fair, has a sense of  
humour."   
"Actually sounds like we're getting two good new teachers." Ron commented, eyebrows  
raised.  
"Shocking." Harry replied. He was honestly surprised, though he knew that with Voldemort's  
return, Dumbledore would be getting more accomplished witches and wizards to teach.  
Judging by the little they'd heard of Pierson's conversation with Dumbledore, he'd have some  
surprises up his sleeve for the Dark Lord. Though they didn't really know much about  
Professor Swife, they guessed that any new teacher would have to be an excellent witch or  
wizard, and from what they'd heard, she was.  
"Well, History should be interesting."  
"Don't jinx us!" Ron joked. "I want to find out something about him, though - I still can't see  
how he could've known Dumbledore forty years ago."  
"Oh, Ron, it's probably nothing. He's older than he looks, that's all." Hermione said.  
"I don't know, Hermione," Harry commented. "Wizards age slowly, sure, but that's  
stretching it - and Dumbledore would be getting ...well...unusual people to come in."  
"Yeah, but what kind of unusual witch or wizard lives forty years and ages, what, fifteen at  
the most?" Hermione countered.  
"Well, why don't we try and find out? We could always see if he's taught here before. And  
I'll ask Sirius in my next letter - he must know something about him, if Snape and Trelawney  
do!" Harry said, in a burst of inspiration.  
"Well, I suppose...look, there's the classroom. Better not talk about it where he could hear.  
We'll go to the owlery, then the library at lunch?"  
"OK." Harry and Ron agreed, and abruptly shut up as they walked into the classroom. It  
looked different, Harry thought, as he glanced around. There was a bit more light in the  
place, and it wasn't musty like it used to be. He could see that Professor Binns' old maps  
were gone, replaced with newer versions, or pictures of historical sites.  
Methos watched the kids arriving carefully. He guessed the three who had just walked in  
were Harry, Ron and Hermione - he knew Harry from the scar, and his resemblance to his  
father helped. Ron...well, Weasleys never looked that much different. The girl was  
just...well, she practically screamed, 'study freak!'. Glasses, bushy hair that she wouldn't  
take the time to care for, more thick books than any other student in the class, and he would  
lay money on her being first to answer any question he asked them...well, she might've read  
half the books in the library on Dark Wizards, but he had lived them - and then written some  
of them. He'd be able to give her a challenge. He was curious to see what the boys were like,  
though - especially to find out if the Weasley could be a weather mage. The Weasleys had it  
in the family, even if it had been a long time. A blonde boy walked in, flanked by two  
thuggish-looking boys. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, no doubt about that. Some things would  
never change, but he'd keep an eye on the boy, as Dumbledore wished. Most of the class had  
arrived, so Methos thought he'd begin.  
"Good morning. I'm Professor Adam Pierson and obviously your new teacher. Now, to get  
things straight, I expect work on time, I expect you on time, I expect you to pay attention.  
Good reasons for late work or lack of concentration are acceptable -" he lightened up a little   
" - but they'd better be proper reasons. Now, considering Binns was your last History teacher,  
I'm just going to assume you learned nothing at all." The class laughed in agreement, and  
Ron nudged Hermione. "See?" he whispered. "He knew Binns, too."  
"You will be studying Dark Wizards, in light of recent developments. Today's lesson will be  
in the library - I'm giving you an assignment. Research the life of a Dark Wizard - you can do  
it alone or in groups of two or three. I want to know what he did, but I also want his  
motivation, plan, strategy, the lot. Reasons for his actions, and for the actions of wizards of  
the time. Resources - the best plan of attack they could have used, and an analysis of what  
they did, and how he was defeated. This is a large task - you'll have a few weeks for it.  
Questions?"  
The class shook their heads, except for Hermione, who put up her hand.  
"Name?"  
"Hermione Granger."  
"Go on."  
"Is there any specific time frame? Can it be any Dark Wizard at all?" Methos frowned,  
thinking about it. He'd meant only relatively recent wizards, but so long as they did a pretty  
good project...  
"No time frame, but doing a medieval wizard is no excuse for lack of information."  
Hermione nodded, and he said "Are we all ready?" The class stood, picking up their books.  
He led them towards the library, and was about halfway there when he heard an unmistakable  
cackle behind him. The students scattered, with exclamations of  
"It's Peeves!"  
"Water bombs!" and a few muttered expletives. Peeves began throwing the bombs. A couple  
of shouts said two students were hit - either Peeves' aim was suffering or the students had  
had practice. Suddenly, one hit Methos square in the back.  
"Hit the new teacher! Got the new teacher!" Peeves had a manic grin on his face, Methos just  
knew it. He turned around slowly, concealing a smirk beneath his most evil, Death-like  
expression. He glared at Peeves, who, failing to recognise him, was sniggering.  
"POLTERGEIST!" He roared in much the same fashion as he had many years ago when  
terrorising Peeves. Everyone flinched back, and he was pleased. Apparently he hadn't lost his  
touch, even after so long.  
Peeves' face, already pale, was snow white, and he was shaking. He sank to the floor, making  
a quick motion with a hand that removed all of the water splattered about from the bombs.  
He began muttering frantic apologies, and Methos waved his hand in a dismissal, whispering  
"Never again." harshly. Peeves fled, and Methos gestured to the class, who collected  
themselves and followed him warily.  
Ron, Harry and Hermione were in awe.  
"Now are you going to tell me he's just some ordinary wizard?"  
"Well, obviously not, Ron." Hermione said, sounding put out. "He obviously knew Peeves  
before this, and seeing as not very much puts Peeves off, he must be unusual. We'll look him  
up in the library."  
"And I'll owl Sirius. How cool was that, though? Peeves was scared out of his wits! Not like  
just with the Bloody Baron or someone, he was shaking. But Professor Pierson must've done  
something pretty nasty, though, to scare him." Harry sounded thoughtful.  
"Yeah.." Hermione sounded worried. Then she brightened. "But he must be all right, though,  
if Dumbledore hired him."  
"Dumbledore hired Snape." Harry countered. "But then again, he did spy for our side before  
Voldemort's - " Ron winced at the name "downfall. So he can't be all bad - just nasty."  
"Snape's scared of Pierson." Ron pointed out.  
"Doesn't exactly warm your heart, does it? But he seems all right. And Dumbledore did hire  
him, that counts for a lot."   
The class passed without any further events. Ron, Harry and Hermione formed a group and  
decided to research Grindlewald - also deciding it might not be prudent to look up Adam  
Pierson's name while in his class.  
That lunchtime, the trio skipped lunch and headed first for the owlery. Harry scribbled a note  
to Sirius.  
Hey, Sirius  
School's just started again and everything's good - we've got two new professors, Telske  
Swife for Defence - she's an Australian - and Adam Pierson for History of Magic. Professor  
Binns passed over, such a shame. We were wondering, though, do you know Professor  
Pierson? Because he knew Dumbledore forty years ago, and he looks about twenty-five, plus  
he knows Snape, Trelawney, Vector and Peeves. Trelawney and Snape are wary of him, and  
Peeves is terrified. He seems nice enough, though - except when he was roaring  
"POLTERGEIST" at Peeves - and he's friends with Vector. Were you friends with him? Was  
he in your year? Do you know why Peeves is so terrified of him?  
Harry.  
  
********  
So what did you think? When should Harry get an owl back from Sirius? What pairings do  
you want? Plot ideas, anyone? 


	3. Author's Note

Hello! Sorry, not a real update...  
I just wanted to say it'll probably be a while before I update again. I'm trying to figure out  
what I want to do with this, and exams are next week, and...the list goes on. Xmas holidays  
will be here soon; I'll probably get going then. Thanks *heaps* to all reviewers, Jill, I love  
your 'It's Not Exactly Stealing' fic! I'm trying to fix the formatting. It's really stuffed.  
Sparrow, there are more than a few out there, I'll check for you. God almighty, I just did and  
I'm surprised. Apparently digging these fics up is a slow and painful process ...perhaps I  
found them by accident last time.  
www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1001899 is short but shows promise, it's by  
sundaesinaugust, I think it's going to be a ROG fic mostly. And, um, there are more but I  
haven't written them down and if I do even this little note won't be up for a week...  
Elsbeth: thankyou for telling me what you want from the story - I'm definitely not going to  
make Methos tell all, I wouldn't have anyway. Really OOC.  
Fabi: *g* very happy you read english :) and I'm sure your stuff is really good. *counts* 46  
pieces none of them the little pieces of nothing you see sometimes.  
Romilly McAran: I'm no good with slash, but I read a lot of pieces about Snape, sometimes  
Draco - I'm not going to write them off as the nasties. If you like slash, and HL/HP x-overs,  
try the Harry Potter and the Oldest Immortal I mentioned in ch. 2.  
Anders: Thanks, he'll get the owl back at the end of next chapter or in the middle maybe if I  
make it long.  
Bagheera: noo...no talent here, thankyou anyway. I like Methos best, but he fits in really well  
with the HP universe in most fics, it's coool.  
Alowl: Will do...soon...i hope...I'm going to go read your fics now :)  
bye everybody! If you have a username please mention it if you can't be bothered to log in so  
I can read your stuff (or not, if it happens to be in another language...)  
Thankyou for reviewing! 


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